


Lavender

by katiemorag



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bilbo Remains In Erebor, Attempted Kidnapping, Attempted Murder, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Everybody Lives, Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:20:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26642872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katiemorag/pseuds/katiemorag
Summary: Dwarves were strange creatures. Bilbo had thought that often enough for it to be a statement of fact rather than a passing observation. He didn’t suppose he’d ever quite grasp the call of gold and jewels or of heavy weaponry. Then again, dwarves didn’t quite understand why he and other hobbits held such a fondness for the sun and things grown in the ground so perhaps hobbits were just as strange.Durin's Day celebrations don't quite turn how Bilbo expected, a few months later, it gets infinitely worse.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 284





	Lavender

Dwarves were strange creatures. Bilbo had thought that often enough for it to be a statement of fact rather than a passing observation. He didn’t suppose he’d ever quite grasp the call of gold and jewels or of heavy weaponry. Then again, dwarves didn’t quite understand why he and other hobbits held such a fondness for the sun and things grown in the ground so perhaps hobbits were just as strange. 

There were some things though, that never changed no matter what race or part of the land you came from apparently. One of those was people coveting what didn’t belong to them and what they  _ couldn’t _ have. 

That thing at present, was Bilbo’s husband. 

Thorin, Son of Thrain, King under the Mountain and Reclaimer of Erebor, was a hot topic in the gossip of Erebor’s halls. Bilbo was friendly with enough traders and merchants to know what was going on despite the dramatic influx of dwarves that had converged on the Lonely Mountain once news of it’s reclamation had been spread. Many of them had told him of how some dwarven maidens, particularly those from the Eastern mountains, were intent on gaining Thorin’s favour with a view to separating him from his hobbit consort and pushing him to wed a dwarven bride.

Now, most of those in Erebor would scoff at how ridiculous this venture was. It was clear as day to anyone, even those without eyesight, that Thorin was besotted with his hobbit husband. Bilbo knew that most of all, but that didn’t stop the bubbling rage in his belly at the thought of someone even  _ thinking  _ about trying to take  **_his_ ** husband from him.

Thorin, of course, was oblivious to the advances of dwarven maidens. That didn’t surprise Bilbo in the slightest, after all, it had taken him grabbing the King under the Mountain by his beard and kissing him senseless for him to understand that Bilbo loved him just as much as he loved Bilbo. Thorin’s right eyebrow would twitch in confusion whenever one of them would compliment him on his beard or the likes but he would never return the compliment (much to their obvious dismay) and would, more often than not, excuse himself quickly afterwards and go off in search of a member of the Company or indeed Bilbo himself.

Dis, however, is not as oblivious as her thick skulled brother. Bilbo had been pleasantly surprised when he had noticed the princess glaring at a particularly zealous admirer and they had spent that night gossiping in a way that most would find unbecoming of a princess and a consort of Durin’s line.

Bilbo had become accustomed to the glares and hateful stares that he was subject to on a daily basis, but when those looks began to turn towards his darling Frodo, Bilbo knew something had to be done, though he wasn’t quite yet sure what. But if the calculating look in Dis’ eye when he told her of the looks was anything to go by, Bilbo knew she had a plan and wasn’t sure he was going to enjoy it.

  
  


Dis accosted Bilbo as he carried a jam covered and snoring Frodo back to their rooms after, rather late by their normal standards, breakfast on Durin’s Day. Over the last few days, Bilbo had seen her conversing with some of the merchants and looking at the fabrics they sold critically, he had assumed that she was commissioning them for new dresses for herself or perhaps new tunics for her sons but now he feared that she may have been shopping for him.

“There you are Bilbo!” Dis greeted brightly, looping her arm through Bilbo’s free arm. “Are you looking forward to the day’s festivities?”

“I suppose?” Bilbo said in answer, though he knew fine well it came out as more of a question. His brain was running at a million acres a minute trying to figure out just exactly what his sister-in-law was planning. He hadn’t failed to notice the fact that Dis was decked in full royal regalia, from her deep green dress with Durin’s crest sewn into the skirt in shimmering silver to her golden crown complete with glittering sapphires that matched the ones glinting in her intricately braided beard.

“Oh I promise you’ll have fun!” Dis said, her voice would have sounded earnest had it not been for the slight smug tone that it carried. “My personal favourite is the battle challenges, though I imagine yours will be the feast at nightfall?”

“Battle challenges?” Bilbo asked, sounding a little faint, no-one had said anything about battle challenges when the members of the company had been lecturing him about dwarven customs but then again, he couldn’t bring himself to be completely surprised by the fact that ‘festivities’ apparently meant ‘fighting’ to dwarves.

“Thorin is the reigning champion in the arena, he’s won every challenge that I can remember.” Dis said proudly.

“Of course he is.” Bilbo said dryly, shifting a Frodo in his arms a little when the little hobbit began to sag in his sleep.

“I’m sure you’ve been told but as he’s competing, it falls to you as consort to oversee the challenge.” 

Bilbo stopped walking and gaped at her.

“I beg your pardon?” Bilbo spluttered, he had most certainly  _ not _ been told  _ that. _

“Don’t worry yourself, nadad.” Dis said tugging on Bilbo’s arm to get him to start walking again. “I will be right by your side as will both Fili and Kili as they’re both deemed too young to compete, which of course they think is preposterous given they’ve helped win back the Lonely Mountain but alas, tradition wins. Fear not, we will ensure you pick a worthy victor.”

Dis sounded quite happy about the fact that her sons would not be competing as was Bilbo in truth but he could only nod dumbly in response. He hadn’t the faintest idea how one would even ‘oversee’ a challenge nevermind pick a victor. Though if what Dis said about Thorin winning the challenges every year was true, picking the victor would be an easy task given that he was not accused of nepotism.

“Let’s get you in something that befits a consort of Durin’s line on Durin’s Day, shall we?” Dis’ smile was saccharine and it sent a swell of dread through Bilbo like a hot knife through butter. He had the sinking feeling that within the next few hours he would be bedecked in enough jewels to drown a horse and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it; nor would he even try to, Fili and Kili had not been kidding when they said that their mother was the Durin to be feared.

  
  
  


Bilbo frowned as his sister-in-law pulled out a deep blue tunic with the crest of the House of Durin embroidered on the front in shimmering silver that Bilbo suspected may be  _ actual _ silver like that in her own dress and not just a trick of the light. The soft grey breeches that she also held would no doubt set the colours in the tunic off beautifully. 

“Dis…” Bilbo began tentatively but abruptly stopped his plea when she rounded on him brandishing a hairbrush.

“You, Bilbo Baggins;” Dis said as she advanced on him. “Are going to be dressed in a manner befitting your station as Consort under the Mountain or so help me Mahal, I’ll make sure you don’t set foot in the library for a  _ month _ .”

Bilbo gulped at the threat of not being able to retreat to his sanctuary then nodded, feeling much like a sufficiently chastised hobbitling; he wasn’t too surprised by that though, this was the woman who had raised Fili and Kili after all.

  
  
  


“Pretty.” Frodo praised a little while later when he had roused from his nap and squinted across the room from his bundle of blankets on Bilbo and Thorin’s bed at Bilbo’s hair that was now a shimmering gold under Dis’ expert hands, the hobbitling’s face still a little sticky from the jam at breakfast that Bilbo hadn’t managed to scrub clean as he slept.

“Isn’t he, little one?” Dis agreed with a proud smile as she put the final beads in Bilbo’s braids, she had spent a long moment studying the beads that would sit at the very forefront of Bilbo’s head. 

They were his marriage beads from Thorin that he had only worn a few times since being gifted with them. They were his second pair actually, the first had been two beads of simple gold and emerald that Thorin had made in haste after the reclamation (and their subsequent confession of mutual feelings,  _ well _ Bilbo hauling the king in for a kiss, calling him an idiot then kissing him some more would be a more accurate description of events) in order to propose to Bilbo as soon as he could. He wore those most often as they were decidedly less ornate than his newer ones which though lovely were much to fancy for his day to day activities though he’s sure Thorin would disagree - he also held a deep fondness for the simple pair as they were the ones he had  _ actually _ received from Thorin on the day of their marriage. 

Dis had been pleasantly surprised to find that the beads were beautifully detailed and stunning. Once Dis would have said that such fine work would be beyond her brother but the mithril beads embedded with aquamarine forget-me-nots, amethyst lavender buds with dainty emerald sprigs, ruby red roses and twinkling white yarrow buds that, if she is not mistaken were tiny Arkenstone shards, that make up her brother-in-law’s beads attest otherwise. She found it endlessly endearing that her brute of a brother had researched the meanings of flowers, by means of Ori, in order to provide his flower loving husband with beads that would portray his everlasting devotion to both dwarf and hobbit alike.

“ _ Really,  _ Dis, is this all necessary?” Bilbo asked with a sigh, fiddling with the edge of his new tunic as she patted him on the head and went back to the large chest that sat in the far corner that contained both his and Thorin’s jewellery.

“Of course it is.” Dis said with a snort.

She crowed victoriously when she found the items she  _ knew _ were there but also knew that Thorin had hidden from his husband for fear of being reprimanded for such extravagant jewellery. 

Bilbo’s eyes widened as he took in the pieces that Dis held as she came back to stand next to the chair that she had shoved him into what seemed like endless hours ago. The coronet was made of shimmering mithril with gold oak leaves at equal intervals, each leaf was embedded with a royal blue sapphire near the tip that would match the blue of his tunic perfectly, at the bottom of each leaf was a rose made of deep red rubies, in between the leaves were swirls of mithril ivy. 

Bilbo leaned closer to get a better look at the dainty white jasmine flowers that curled along the sweeping vines of ivy and gasped aloud as he realised that he had seen those distinctive shimmering colours before. He had almost been in tears when Thorin had gifted him with beads containing Arkenstone shards and called him ‘ _ the greatest treasure in Erebor’  _ and here was even more proof of how much his husband loved him. His king had made him both beads  _ and _ a crown containing pieces of the Arkenstone when not even his own nor his throne could boast such an adornment as the stone had been laid to rest in the burial halls of Thorin’s ancestors.

“We’ll show them.” Dis muttered under her breath as she set about settling the coronet on Bilbo’s head. She had laid down the other jewellery piece on the table beside them in order to dedicate both hands to her current task, it gave Bilbo the chance to look at it as just like the coronet, he had never seen it before.

It was a bracelet, that was really the only way Bilbo could think of to describe it but it was like no other bracelet he had ever seen before. It was made of a solid bangle of gold with intertwined chains gold and mithril attached to it, and it had another chain that extended from it’s middle to a ring at the other end. Bilbo could only assume that it would sit on his middle finger to hold the chains in place but he couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the purely decorative piece that would serve no purpose nor function. The bangle contained the same shimmering red roses that adorned his crown and ornate marriage beads, the sight of such numerous numbers of the flowers made Bilbo flush a little. 

To a hobbit, to receive red roses was an exciting prospect as one could only  _ dream _ of someone loving them enough to bring them such flowers. Bilbo had never expected that  _ he _ would receive such things, nevermind delicate, shimmering ruby ones that his own husband’s hands had crafted that would never wilt or die.

The extending chain that ran up to join the ring, that itself was embedded with rubies and diamonds, consisted of three chains that split at the bracelet then converged around an intricately forged word written in runes that was lined with sparkling diamonds before splitting again and continuing in three chains until it reached the sparkling ring. Bilbo tilted his head a little to get a proper look at what the word said, his Khuzdul was elementary at the best of times so he wasn’t really expecting to understand what it said.

But he  _ did _ . 

It was one of the first things he had asked Thorin to teach him in the runic language as it was the name that the dwarf had called him the first time they kissed and multiple times a day since then.

  
  


Ghivashel.

Treasure of all treasures.

Bilbo felt the tears well in his eyes as he thought of his husband, his Thorin, working tirelessly on such an intricate piece of jewellery, a thing that by his own admission was not his area of expertise, just to be able to gift it to Bilbo, so the whole kingdom would see that this hobbit was the true treasure of the King under the Mountain.

“Are you quite alright, Uncle?” Frodo asked sleepily as he toddled across and rested his chin on Bilbo’s knee, carefully avoiding touching his uncle’s new breeches with any part of his face that was still jam sticky.

“I’m fine, dear boy.” Bilbo said stroking Frodo’s sleep tousled curls affectionately, aware suddenly that his voice sounded a little watery,  _ damn sentimental fool, _ he thought internally shaking himself, though he wasn’t sure if he was referring to Thorin or himself in that thought. “Do you know what these flowers are and what they mean?”

Bilbo traced a light finger over the roses in the bracelet, he had been attempting to teach Frodo about flowers and such things as one did with a hobbitling but their lessons were often swept aside in favour of games with Fili and Kili or other defence lessons with Dwalin or more often than not, simply snuggling into Thorin and promptly falling asleep.

“Roses!” Frodo cried excitedly, grinning brightly when Bilbo smiled encouragingly, Bilbo was too afraid to nod given how Dis was still fiddling with the coronet and his braids. “Red ones mean love. Did Uncle Thorin make this for you?” 

“He did. He also made these beads and this crown.” Bilbo said, gently touching the items in question.

Bilbo laughed as Frodo launched himself onto his lap, he caught the faunt easily, careful not to jostle Dis’ fluttering hands too much and settled him on his knee so the boy could inspect his beads and headwear.

“Roses mean love.” Frodo recited dutifully, brow crinkling in confusion as he looked at the other flowers in his uncle’s crown. “I don’t think I know what the leaves mean or the pretty little white flowers. Ivy means friendship, why would Uncle Thorin give you something that means friendship?”

“Because Uncle Thorin and I were friends long before we were in a relationship, he likely put it in this because he values the fact that we trust each other deeply as friends as well as husbands.” Bilbo explained patiently. “The white flowers are jasmine, they also mean love though in a different way from red roses, they mean sweet love and deep, loving affection.”

Frodo nodded enthusiastically at the answer, Bilbo knows that even as just a faunt he can see just how much his uncles adore each other just as his parents had. 

“What are they made from?” Frodo asked, head tilting to the side in adorable confusion.

“They are made from the Arkenstone, little one, as are the yarrow buds in your Uncle’s marriage beads.” Dis answered when Bilbo took a moment too long to answer, she had been subject to her brother’s moaning about which flowers to forge into his consort’s crown so knew  _ exactly _ what they were and what they meant.

“The Arkenstone?” Frodo echoed awed, he reached up a tiny finger and traced the very edge of one the flowers gently. 

“Aye.” Dis said sounding smug. “It shows that your Uncle Thorin treasures your Uncle Bilbo more than all the gold and jewels in Erebor, including the Arkenstone itself.”

Frodo’s eyes went impossibly wider at that, he knew how much such treasures meant to dwarves even if, like his Uncle Bilbo, he didn’t quite understand it completely.

“What kind of leaves do you think these are?” Bilbo asked, trying to distract Frodo in the hopes that he could avoid a veritable barrage of questions that Dis’ comment would bring, even just for today.

“Are they oak leaves?” Frodo asked uncertainly after a moment of looking at the golden leaves critically.

“Clever boy!” Bilbo praised, he made use of Dis’ hands not being on his head to lean forward and press a kiss to the giggling hobbitling’s nose, his own nose wrinkling when his lips came away slightly sticky with raspberry jam. “Do you know why Uncle Thorin put oak leaves in it?”

“Because his name is Oakenshield!” Frodo cried excitedly, clapping his hands in delight at having got it right. “And he’s called that because he fought off the nasty, filthy, bastarding orcs with an oak branch!”

“Language, Frodo!” Bilbo reprimanded but his voice was far too fond to sound anywhere close to a real chastisement. “You’ve been spending far too much time with your cousins.”

“Remind me to wash out their mouths with soap when this day has passed.” Dis muttered darkly; both Bilbo and Frodo shuddered at the memory of the last time she had carried out that threat, Fili and Kili had been whimpering about everything tasting like lavender for nigh on a week.

“Can I touch to see better?” Frodo asked, looking up at Dis with wide eyes as he gestured to Bilbo’s marriage beads.

“Of course mizimith, just be careful that you do not tug the braids.” Dis said with a soft smile, she was just as susceptible to Frodo’s big, blue eyes as the rest of them.

“I’ll be careful, Aunt Dis.” Frodo promised solemnly and true to his word, he pulled Bilbo’s left marriage bead towards him with the utmost care and traced over the intricate flowers with a reverent and gentle finger. “There’s roses here too, these ones are forget-me-nots and these are lavender and there’s yarrow like Aunt Dis said but I don’t know what they mean or what stones they are, sorry Uncle.”

Frodo pouted but whether it was at not being able to tell what the flowers meant or what the jewels were, Bilbo wasn’t sure but his frown turned to a giggle when Bilbo tickled his sides fondly.

“If you weren’t always off gallivanting with your cousins and actually attended lessons you might.” Bilbo reminded him, he would truly never begrudge Frodo the time he spent with his cousins, after all, he had often neglected his own lessons as a faunt in favour of playing with his cousins.

“ _ Uncle _ …” Frodo giggled, batting at Bilbo’s hands until he stopped tickling. “What do they mean?”

Bilbo wondered absently if combining jewels with flowers and the like was the way to get Frodo to attend his lessons, the boy was a hobbit there was no doubt but he had spent the last few years surrounded by dwarves and it was to be expected that some of their habits and interests had worn off on him.

“The forget-me-nots are aquamarines, they mean true love.” Bilbo said, barely holding back a deep sigh when Dis began fidgeting with his crown once again. “The lavender sprigs are made of amethysts and their stems are made of emeralds, lavender means devotion. As your Aunt Dis said, the yarrow is made of shards of the Arkenstone and it means everlasting love.”

Frodo looked stunned by Bilbo’s words, he looked down in astonishment at the bead he had cradled in his hand then up at his uncle, a bright smile gracing his face.

“Uncle Thorin loves you a whole lot.” Frodo said, his eyes still flicking between Bilbo’s eyes and the bead.

“He does.” Bilbo agreed easily, he had never doubted that fact since that first day that he had kissed his husband senseless. 

“Sickening, that’s what you two are.” Dis chimed in teasingly, her laugh echoing loud when Bilbo laughed in mock affront. “I’ll put the bracelet on you once I’ve sorted Frodo so it won’t get in your way if you want to read.”

“You’re sorting Frodo?” Bilbo asked in confusion, it wasn’t that Dis had never bathed nor dressed Frodo before, it was just usually she did not volunteer for the job given Frodo’s love of getting bath water all over the poor soul bathing him and Dis was already dressed for the festivities; though he supposed that if anyone could get the bath time un-drenched, it was her.

“Of course.” Dis snorted as she swooped down and plucked the hobbitling from Bilbo’s arms. “You don’t think I’m going to let you undo all my hardwork by bathing this little rascal, do you?”

Dis carried a giggling Frodo into the washroom that adjoined their chambers and the room was soon filled with sounds of Frodo's happy splashing and gleeful cackles.

With Frodo and Dis occupied, the relative peace allowed Bilbo to think about Dis’ words from earlier; she had said ‘ _ we’ll show them’ _ and it took Bilbo an embarrassingly long time to realise just who she had been referring to, the dwarven maidens who were vying for his husband’s attention. His dastardly, wonderfully cunning sister-in-law had bedecked him in the finest jewels in Erebor, made by the hands of the king himself, on the most significant day in the dwarven calendar and she knew as well as Bilbo did, that said king could barely keep his hands off Bilbo on a  _ normal _ day nevermind when he was dressed like this. 

Bilbo supposed that it had been the day they had welcomed the delegation from the Iron Hills that may have proved to be Dis’ inspiration. Bilbo had looked practically destitute that day compared to how he did now, his simple beads in his hair and plain gold circlet atop his head, but Thorin had still all but dragged him to their chambers once they had completed their duties and entrusted Frodo to Dis. Bilbo felt his face flush at the memory of how  _ that _ day had ended, he had found it a tad awkward to sit down for  _ days. _

“Am I gonna look as pretty as Uncle Bilbo?” Frodo asked as Dis carried him back into the room, swathed in a soft towel.

“I dare say you’ll give him a run for his money, mizimith.” Dis said, pressing a fond kiss to Frodo’s damp curls before setting him down on the bed, the boy grinned brightly at the mere thought and Bilbo’s heart swelled with love for his tiny nephew.

“Dis, you must let me pay you back for this.” Bilbo pleaded, gesturing to his own new tunic and the matching one for Frodo she had just lifted from the wardrobe.

“Don’t be silly, Bilbo.” Dis scoffed, waving her free hand at him dismissively as she set about wrangling Frodo into his breeches. “You’re family and I am perfectly within my rights to spoil you both.”

Dis’ tone was smug but carried an edge of steel that had Bilbo raising his hands in surrender, he was not so foolish as to disagree with her.

“ _ Pretty…”  _ Frodo said, voice quiet and reverent as he traced his fingers over the silver crest of the House of Durin on his new tunic once Dis had got it on him. 

“Indeed you are, little one.” Dis agreed fondly, brandishing a hair brush once more and diving in to attempt to corral Frodo’s wild hair into some semblance of order. 

“Where  _ is _ Thorin?” Bilbo asked, he had realised suddenly that his husband had not joined them in their chambers as he had planned to and tried not to worry about the fact.

“He is with Dwalin.” Dis said,  _ somehow _ making Frodo’s curls sit in a way that Bilbo could never master. “I gave him strict instructions that Thorin was not to be allowed in here and that the next time you would see each other would be at the festivities.”

Bilbo couldn’t help but laugh as his worries drained away, Dis really was going all out to show the entire kingdom just how much Thorin loved him. He knew as well as Dis that Thorin’s face will be a sight to behold when he sees Bilbo in all his finery and glittering jewels.

“Time for your jewellery, little one.” Dis instructed, hoisting Frodo off the bed and depositing him soundly in Bilbo’s arms before she hurried over to the chest once more. 

“Jewellery?” Frodo asked delightedly, he tripped over the word a little but not nearly as much as he had when he first came to the mountain. 

“Sit still, darling.” Bilbo chastised gently when Frodo began bouncing on his knee as Dis made her way back to them. “Aunt Dis won’t be able to get any on you if you keep bouncing like a march hare!”

Frodo froze as Dis kneeled in front of them so she was eye-level with the faunt, she laid a necklace on the table and held the tiny circlet up so Frodo could see the intricate details on it.

“Can you tell your uncle and I what these flowers are?” Dis asked trailing a light finger over the jewelled flowers forged into the shining mithril. It didn’t escape Bilbo’s notice that Frodo’s headwear was an echo of the one that sat atop his own head and that Thorin had used the most precious metal possible for their littlest nephew as well as his consort.

“Those are pink roses and yellow tulips.” Frodo said after a moment of deep concentration then huffed. “I don’t know the other ones or what they’re made of.”

“The other two are crocus’ and lily of the valley.” Bilbo said, leaning over to point at the flowers in question.

“The roses are made of pink beryl, the tulips of yellow diamonds, the crocus’ of amethysts and the lily of the valley of opals.” Dis instructed as she pointed to each of them gems in question.

“What do they mean, Uncle Bilbo?” Frodo asked, turning to look at Bilbo with wide eyes that crinkled at the edges in confusion when he noticed that Bilbo’s eyes had gone a little wet.

“Crocus’ mean youthful gladness.” Bilbo said, shaking himself and banishing the affectionate tears that threatened to fall at the love he felt for both Thorin and Frodo in that moment. “Lily of the valley means sweetness and purity, pink roses mean happiness and yellow tulips mean ‘I see sunshine in your smile’.”

Frodo lit up with every word Bilbo said, clapping delightedly and giggling at the explanation.

“Uncle Thorin is a sap, isn’t he?” Frodo asked through his giggles making Bilbo and Dis laugh along with him.

“Only for you two, I assure you, little hobbit.” Dis said fondly, tapping Frodo on the chin so he would turn to her again and then settling the circlet on Frodo’s raven curls.

Dis turned to retrieve the necklace and held it aloft so the pendant fixed at the bottom was easy to see.

“What does that say?” Frodo asked, Bilbo was glad he did because he too wished to know, he hadn’t seen those runes before though they looked somewhat similar to the ones that would soon adorn his hand.

“It says _ bunnanunê _ .” Dis said, running a finger over the runes as she did, light hitting off the tiny diamonds that were embedded in the dainty piece. “It means ‘my tiny treasure’.”

Both Bilbo and Frodo froze at this explanation, Bilbo felt those thrice-be-damned tears well up in his eyes once more as Frodo reached out a tentative hand toward the necklace before turning to him with wide eyes.

“I need to see Uncle Thorin.” Frodo said after another moment of admiring the necklace before he shuffled forward to allow Dis to fasten the shimmering chain around his neck.

“Why’s that, little one?” Dis asked, sounding suspiciously emotional herself as she took in the two hobbits that sat before her with a brilliant smile.

“I need to give him the biggest hug  _ ever _ .” Frodo said earnestly.

Bilbo and Dis couldn’t help their laughter at how serious Frodo sounded, Bilbo leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to the hobbitling’s freshly jam free cheek, nuzzling a little at the soft skin there as Dis took hold of his hand and slid the ring of the bracelet onto his middle finger then arranged it appropriately before fastening it around his wrist.

“Come.” Dis instructed, the bell tolled as she stood up, brushing herself down. “We don’t want to be late.”

  
  
  


The arena was loud and full of excitable dwarves of all ages, the fact that the competitors had not yet entered the arena did little to dull the buzz. Frodo waved excitedly to his little friends, Kirmi, Hata, and Berm, who’s mothers and Bilbo shared a long suffering look, coupled with a rueful smile, when they noticed his attire, he was sure he was in for more than a little teasing come market day.

Fili and Kili were already sat in their thrones on the podium that sat slightly above the other seats in the arena, both looking like the princes that they were. Both dressed in tunics similar to Bilbo and Frodo’s though theirs were split at the middle, one side containing Durin’s crest and the other what Bilbo presumed to be the crest of their father’s house. Bilbo strongly suspected that there had been copious threats made by their mother to ensure they stayed that way. Dis was led onto the podium by Dwalin, who looked to be thankful for the task, small as it may be. Dis had told him on the way down that he had been banned from participating in the battles by Oin after he had suffered a shoulder injury during the latest skirmish with some of the orcs that still remained in the nearby hills.

“You look lovely, master Bilbo.” Dwalin said as he returned to assist Bilbo onto the podium. “As do you, little one.”

Dwalin wriggled his fingers into Frodo’s podgy tummy eliciting delighted giggles from the hobbitling that those on the podium and indeed most of those around it looked on fondly. Bilbo made a mental note of those whose lips upturned in disgust or anger at the sound or at the sight of him taking the throne next to Fili, Dis and Kili sitting ever so slightly behind Fili and himself respectively as was tradition apparently. 

Dwalin moved to the seats to Bilbo’s left, these seats, he knew, were kept for the most trusted advisors and confidants of the royal family. Hence why Ori sat there, after all he was Bilbo’s closest friend outwith his family,  _ and _ he was the one that Thorin had entrusted to assist him in the creation of Bilbo’s ornate marriage beads as well as the new crown and bracelet that he wore. Bilbo noticed how Ori’s cheeks flushed pink as Dwalin took the seat right next to him rather than one of the many other unoccupied seats, he sent a wicked grin at Ori who only flushed deeper in response. It was no secret to anyone, least of all Bilbo, that Ori carried a torch for the Captain of the King’s Guard.

Fili waved to a dwarf at the opposite end of the arena and the large doors that led onto the concourse opened and a swell of dwarves came flooding out, at the very forefront of which was Thorin. Bilbo couldn’t help but lean forward a little as he drank in the lovely sight his husband made, his chest was bare showing off his many battle scars as well as the dark ink of his tattoos, both of which Bilbo knew were attractive traits in dwarven culture. The sight of one tattoo in particular made Bilbo feel incurably smug, the vibrant purple of the tattoo that sat over Thorin’s heart was visible to all, even though most of his chest was covered in thick dark hair, as he and the other competitors made their way over to where Bilbo and the others sat; the sprigs of lavender proclaiming his devotion to his hobbit for all to see.

“Welcome to you all this most sacred day.” Fili said after standing as he looked down at those gathered before him. “The battle challenges of Durin’s Day are a long held tradition in our customs…”

Bilbo supposed that he should be listening to his eldest nephew but he had made the mistake of looking down once more and he had caught Thorin’s eye. Thorin was looking up at him as if he had just seen Mahal himself before him, he greedily took in the sight of Bilbo in glittering jewels with hungry eyes. Bilbo felt himself flush from the tips of his ears right down to fuzzy toes as Thorin licked his lips. 

Bilbo noticed the exact moment that Thorin’s gaze shifted to Frodo who waved at his uncle energetically from where he sat upon Bilbo’s knee, his expression instantly went from devastatingly lustful to utterly adoring. Bilbo knew then that this had been Dis’ plan all along, Thorin couldn’t resist Bilbo even when he wasn’t bedecked in finery nor could he  _ not _ give in to Frodo’s every whim even when the lad was covered head to fuzzy feet in mud. 

“The prize will be a favour from our dear Consort.” Fili’s voice caught Bilbo’s attention once more and he realised what had just been said, he was going to  _ kill  _ him, possibly Dis too because there was no way that she  _ didn’t _ have a hand in this. “You have already been assigned your first opponent, take your places.”

Bilbo looked down at Thorin again to find the king alternating between gazing fondly at Bilbo and Frodo and attempting to murder his eldest nephew with his glare alone. Bilbo tilted his head a little so only the competitors standing directly beside and behind Thorin could see his mouth around Frodo, though none were paying much attention at that moment, and mouthed a single word at his husband.

_ ‘Win.’ _

Thorin’s stance straightened immediately at the request before he swept into a dramatic bow that had the entire crowd chittering and Bilbo rolling his eyes at his dramatics but smiling nonetheless, Frodo clapped and giggled excitedly which in turn made Thorin smile brightly up at them. 

‘ _ I am a lucky hobbit indeed’  _ Bilbo thought idly as Thorin moved away from before him and Bilbo’s gaze ran down his muscled shoulders down to his really rather lovely backside, not looking away until he was completely out of sight.

“You may begin!” Fili called once the competitors had squared up to their opponents, Bilbo craned his head and noted a little morosely that Thorin was in the very centre of the field, no doubt because he was the main attraction for many of the dwarves in attendance.

Most of the first rounds were over within a few minutes, the experienced fighters such as Gloin and indeed Thorin had dispatched their opponents within mere moments of the cry to begin each match. Bilbo tried not to glare at the group of twittering dwarven maidens who were fluttering their eyelashes at Thorin everytime he raised his arms in victory. The only reason Bilbo was able to refrain from such glaring was the fact that every time Thorin defeated his opponent he would immediately turn to the podium where Bilbo sat, press a kiss to his fingers then press them against that lavender sprig tattoo across his heart. 

“Told you,  _ sickening _ .” Dis had said teasingly when Thorin had first done it and Bilbo had flushed pink in surprise and maybe a little embarrassment.

  
  


“We have our finalists!” Fili called a little while later when a dwarf Bilbo vaguely recognised from the markets was defeated by a Blacklock from the Eastern mountains. “Would our finalists please come to the front of the podium.”

Thorin was, of course, the other finalist. He had won every match, the only one that had taken any sort of toll on him had been his last one against Gloin who fought tooth and nail to get to the final and gain a favour from Bilbo. Bilbo would make him the chocolate eclairs that Gloin would no doubt have asked for as his favour anyway as well as the cinnamon buns that Gimli adored.

“We, the Royal House of Durin, give our congratulations to you, Ungar, son of Rugar, member of the Blacklock clan, and to you, Thorin, son of Thrain, King under the Mountain.” Fili said smiling down at his uncle at the other finalist, if Bilbo had not been right next to his eldest nephew, he would have missed the slight sour twist in his mouth when he looked at the foreign dwarf. “You have both fought well and true, I now bid you to name the favour you would ask of our Consort to the King before you commence your final battle.”

Fili sat once more as Thorin graciously swept a hand to allow his future opponent to name his favour first. Ungar, was a fierce looking dwarf, Bilbo noted, he had the distinctive inky black hair of the Blacklock clan and a vivid scar diagonally across his face, upturning his lips into a permanent sneer. It did not escape Bilbo’s notice that, that sneer curled higher as he looked at Bilbo, the expression was nasty looking enough that it had Bilbo sliding Frodo back so the faunt rested against his chest. The distinctive twist of the sneer, however, was familiar in that he had seen a dwarven maiden looking at him astoundingly similar expression only the previous day.

“The favour I wish to ask of the Consort;” Ungar said, though he spat Bilbo’s title like it left a particularly unpleasant taste in his mouth to address the hobbit as such; “Is that he step aside  _ as _ the King’s Consort.” 

All air left Bilbo’s lungs as a hush fell over the arena. He knew he should have suspected such a request but the fact that the dwarf was so brazen about it made him feel both near incandescent with rage and like he wanted to be sick all at once. It confirmed his suspicion that the maiden with the same unpleasant curl of lips was his daughter, she was a particularly persistent and vapid admirer of Thorin.

“Pray tell, why would you ask such a thing?” Dis asked leaning forward, Bilbo didn’t miss the steel edge to her voice that promised pain for the dwarf below or the way that Thorin’s stance shifted from casual to ready for battle in the blink of an eye, hand gripping Orcrist’s handle tightly, though he made no move to confront the other dwarf as tradition dictated that no physical confrontation should take place during the requesting of favours, according to Ori’s earlier hushed whispering explanations.

“ _ He _ is no dwarf.” Ungar spat, pointing his sword up at Bilbo and Frodo, the dwarves on the podium (and no doubt Dwalin behind them, just outwith Bilbo’s eyeline) laid their hands on their own weapons, ready to draw them at a moment’s notice. “He does not deserve to stand at the King’s side.”

“And I suppose you think your daughter does?” Bilbo asked coolly, voice even and thankfully not betraying how unsettled he is by the dwarf before him, cuddling a now whimpering Frodo against his chest as he stroked his back reassuringly; he noticed how Thorin’s lips curled into an inaudible growl when he saw Frodo curl away in fear.

Ungar looked stunned at the question and Bilbo took a moment to be proud of that fact. 

“ _ She _ is a dwarf.” Ungar replied haughtily, recovering from his shock quickly (if Bilbo were any less incandescent with carefully concealed rage, he may have been impressed).

“Tell me, what right do you have to decide who the King chooses as his consort?” Bilbo asked almost conversationally, in the corner of his eye, he could see Dis attempting to hide a vicious grin. 

“A dwarven King should have a dwarven consort.” Ungar said after spending a good few moments spluttering incredulously at the question.

“Is it not his  _ right _ as King to decide who stands at his side?” Bilbo asked in the same easy tone, enjoying the fact that it was making the upstart dwarf immensely uncomfortable. He  _ knew  _ that this tactic would work, it worked on Lobelia and she was  _ infinitely _ more challenging than some upstart dwarf.

“You’ve never done  _ anything _ worthy of becoming the Consort!” Ungar shouted, brandishing his sword up at the visibly unimpressed consort. His words had those loyal to the throne and it’s hobbit consort ready to tear him limb from limb and the King himself was at the top of that list.

“Ah.” Bilbo said, raising a nonchalant eyebrow at Ungar. “And where exactly were you, or indeed your daughter, during the reclamation of Erebor?” Bilbo asked, his own lips curling into an uncharacteristic sneer as he continued, not waiting for a response. “I must have missed your presence on the journey from the Shire to Erebor and the subsequent battle. How forgetful of me!”

Bilbo’s taunts had turned Ungar an extremely unflattering shade of puce with rage, or embarrassment Bilbo wasn’t quite sure, whereas Thorin’s had gone a positively festive red with his attempts to bite back laughter.

“You were to be granted a favour by my hand should you have won the contest.” Bilbo said, eyes flicking to Thorin who had taken a deep breath to compose himself then nodded to Bilbo, trusting completely that his husband would make the right call. “You chose this time to try to not only undermine me as Consort but also my husband as King. You are lucky that as a hobbit, I have no desire to see blood spilt as I assure you, my husband would only be too glad to oblige. You will fight the King under the Mountain, should you be victorious, you will be granted permission to visit Erebor once a year for no more than two weeks under constant observation from the King’s Guard. Should you lose, you will be escorted from the mountain at dawn tomorrow and you will never return.”

“You can’t do that!” Ungar shouted, waving his sword at Bilbo more threateningly as he took a few steps forward; Bilbo rested a calm hand on Kili’s arm as he began to rise from his seat with a hand on his own sword.

“I think you’ll find I can.” Bilbo said sharply, cutting Ungar off before he could speak again. “Should you lose and then return to the mountain after you have been escorted out, I will  _ gladly _ separate your head from your shoulders  **_myself_ ** _. _ Am I understood?”

Ungar seemed to have some sense after all because he simply nodded dumbly at the threat in the previously soft-spoken hobbit’s voice. Even his sister-in-law and nephews looked sufficiently stunned at his uncharacteristic harsh words, but Thorin was gazing up at him like a besotted fool and Bilbo had to bite back a smile at how adoringly his husband was looking at him.

“Thorin, what favour would you ask of me?” Bilbo asked, eager to get this over with and have Ungar as far away from Frodo as possible; the fauntling had yet to emerge from where he had buried himself in Bilbo’s tunic. 

“The only favour I ask of you, my darling consort;” Thorin began as he stepped forward, coming to the very edge of the podium and reaching up a hand in askance, Bilbo shifted Frodo a little so the hobbitling could see his other uncle and so he could reach out the hand that held the bangle and adoring words and place it in his husband’s calloused grasp. “Is that you dress like this more often.” 

Bilbo couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled free of him at Thorin’s words, Thorin looked delighted at the reaction, doubly so when Frodo giggled too. 

“Win, husband mine, and I shall wear what you craft for me on high days and holidays.” Bilbo promised, he knew that Thorin would win regardless of the stakes but Ungar’s practical revolt and threatening of both Bilbo and Frodo had only served to make the King more angry and therefore ruthless in his dispatching of the other dwarf.

“As you wish, ghivashel.” Thorin said, sweeping his lips over the words on Bilbo’s bracelet as he said them before he quickly stepped up onto the podium and pressed a fierce kiss to Frodo’s curls. “Cheer for me, bunnanunê.”

In the hurried quiet of the arena, Thorin’s words of endearment were heard and passed around in whispers until they reached the ears of those at the far end along with observations that the hobbits present wore these reverent words in jewellery crafted by the king’s own hand. Bilbo took no small amount of pleasure in seeing how the gaggle of dwarven maidens face’s dropped as they heard what the King had called the two hobbits present. One was the utmost term of devotion a dwarf could bestow on another being and the other was of no less importance in the dwarven language, it was reserved for a dwarf’s greatest treasure, their own children, and here was the King under the Mountain using it for a gentlehobbit and a tiny hobbitling.

“You may begin.” Fili called. 

And as soon as the words left his mouth, Thorin and Ungar stopped circling one another and leapt at one another.

The fight was brutal and bloody, the latter mostly in relation to Ungar. Thorin drew first blood when the tip of Orcrist cut deep into Ungar’s shoulder, making the dwarf howl but not falter in his defence. Frodo and Kili were shouting loudly for Thorin and cheering whenever he gained the upper foot over his opponent; Bilbo, Dis and Fili were more composed in their praise, clapping politely when the occasion called for it.

For all that Ungar was a good fighter, there was no doubt about that, he was but a flickering candle in comparison to the wrathful North wind that was Thorin. The king wasted little time in disarming his opponent, Ungar’s sword going flying across the arena as Thorin conducted a swift, graceful move that had many a dwarf crowing in appreciation and Bilbo biting back a laugh because he knew that Thorin would never admit that he learned that particular move from the elves.

Thorin stood over Ungar, looking every inch the victorious and conquering king he had proved himself to be once more, and pressed a heavy boot into the wheezing dwarves windpipe as he held his sword aloft, ready to strike.

“Do you yield?” Thorin asked, voice little more than a dangerous growl. Bilbo had to resist the urge to fan himself because Thorin both looked  _ and _ sounded so attractive that Bilbo almost threw himself at him there and then.

“I yield.” Ungar gasped, voice strained under the pressure of Thorin’s boot.

“Take him to the cells.” Thorin said lifting his boot away once the guards were at his side. “As my consort instructed, he is to be escorted from the mountain at first light. No harm will come to anyone who wishes to accompany him nor will they come to any harm should they return to Erebor. But know this;” Thorin continued as he looked around the arena at his enraptured subjects; “If any seek to move against me, my husband or  _ any _ of those I hold dear; your death will not be swift.”

A collective shudder ran through the crowd at Thorin’s threat, all those present knowing that the king and many others would take great joy in hurting those who would do harm to the royal family.

Ungar was bundled through the doors that the competitors had initially come out of by the guards and most spectators began shuffling off in the general direction of the banquet hall; no doubt noting that the excitement of the afternoon made good fodder for conversation at dinner.

Thorin strode across the concourse and jumped onto the podium with such grace that, had Bilbo not seen him first thing in the morning, would have said was instinctual. Thorin fell to his knees in front of Bilbo, his chest was littered with little scrapes but none were bleeding at present which put Bilbo at ease, No sooner had Thorin settled before them, Frodo had thrown himself from Bilbo’s arms into those of the king.

“And what’s this in aid of?” Thorin asked chuckling as the faunt clung to him tightly.

“I said that when I saw you I was gonna give you the biggest hug ever.” Frodo said, voice a little muffled as he took up his preferred position, which was that he buried himself in Thorin’s beard.

“And why’s that?” Thorin asked, brow wrinkling in confusion as he looked between his littlest nephew and his softly smiling husband.

“Because you made me this.” Frodo said proudly as he pulled back and held his pendant aloft for Thorin to see. “Aunt Dis said it means ‘my tiny treasure’, is that true?” 

Frodo looked suddenly worried that Dis had got it wrong but Thorin’s bright smile had him relaxing again.

“That is indeed what that means, little one.” Thorin said, pressing a kiss to Frodo’s nose making him wrinkle it adorably in response. “It’s what you are, you are my bunnanunê, my precious little treasure.”

Thorin pressed another kiss to the top of Frodo’s head as the faunt curled back into him, sighing contentedly and uncaring of the state of his uncle’s chest; both Thorin and Bilbo knew that he would be asleep within moments.

“You look magnificent, ghivashel.” Thorin said as his gaze raked over Bilbo once more, his voice was rough and it sent pleasant shivers down Bilbo’s spine.

“All because of you, husband.” Bilbo said, reaching forward to trail his fingers over the soft skin of Thorin’s cheek then the fine hair of his beard. “Though, we are going to have  _ words _ about you using the Arkenstone in such a manner, Thorin Oakenshield.”

Thorin gulped audibly at the promise, Fili and Kili laughed uproariously at the dread in their fearsome uncle’s eyes. 

“Not this day?” Thorin asked, tone just shy of pleading.

“No, dear heart, not this day.” Bilbo said after a moment of contemplation that had Thorin looking increasingly worried. “Today we celebrate your victory.”

Fili and Kili cheered at that as they and Dis stood from their seats, Frodo chiming in a belated, sleepy cheer from his position cradled against Thorin’s chest.

“Brother, go clean yourself up. We will meet you in the banquet hall.” Dis instructed, her tone leaving no room for argument, not that Thorin would ever even think about doing so.

“Be good, little one.” Thorin said, bestowing another kiss on Frodo’s brow before transferring the sleepily grumbling hobbitling into Bilbo’s waiting arms then sweeping in to press a fierce kiss to his husband’s lips. “I shall see you soon, my husband.”

Thorin stood then and with a final caress of Bilbo’s cheek, was off in the direction of their chambers. Bilbo sat for a moment, still a little stunned from the passionate kiss that Thorin had bestowed upon him. 

“Come, the banquet will commence soon.” Dis said, as she was assisted from the podium by Dwalin.

The mention of food had Bilbo and her sons trailing in her wake like little ducklings.

  
  
  


The banquet was elaborate, to say the least. Bilbo counted three roast hogs and two deer on their table alone, theirs being the table that sat atop the hall overlooking the others. The food had been delivered mere seconds ago and Bilbo had already reprimanded all three of his nephews as they attempted to sneak some of it before their other uncle arrived. 

The doors to the hall swung open to reveal Thorin, who looked to have been sufficiently scrubbed, clothed and braided within an inch of his life, no doubt at Dis’ instruction. The Raven Crown of Erebor sat atop his brow and glinted in the candlelight as he strode down the hall, smiling at his subjects as he went. 

Bilbo was extremely pleased to notice that his marriage beads, that had been removed for the challenges, were now back in their rightful place and hung at the forefront of Thorin’s head of hair. 

Bilbo was no smith but he could whittle wood just as good as the next hobbit therefore Thorin’s beads were made of cherry wood with a rim of maple with wallflowers and sweet williams adorning them in addition to the sprigs of lavender and yarrow buds that matched those on Bilbo’s own beads. These too, were Thorin’s second pair of marriage beads, his first pair being simple oak ones with rough carvings of lavender, that Bilbo had carved for him in the short time between Thorin proposing and their marriage. Bilbo knew that like him, Thorin preferred his simple beads for the mere reason that those were ones they were wed with. The lavender of said beads also provided the king with the inspiration for the tattoo that lay across his heart.

Thorin ran a gentle hand across Bilbo’s shoulder as he passed behind him to stand at the large, ornate throne next to Bilbo’s own smaller, but no less opulent, one.

“Today, we celebrate the lives of those who came before us.” Thorin said, voice echoing in the suddenly quiet chamber. “We celebrate those who gave their lives so that we may be in the halls of our ancestors once more. Let us eat!”

A cheer erupts at Thorin’s words, many dwarves thrusting fists or weapons into the air in a show of appreciation and remembrance. 

“You were brilliant today.” Bilbo murmured quietly to Thorin once he had taken his seat.

“I had to win your favour.” Thorin said, foregoing reaching for food like the others to reach for Bilbo’s hand that lay atop the table and brought Bilbo’s knuckles to his lips. “You requested it of me, I recall.”

“You recall correctly.” Bilbo replied, feeling a little flushed at the heated look in Thorin’s eyes. “I shall have to reward you suitably.”

“Oh?” Thorin queried, one of his thick eyebrows raising as a smile tugged at his lips. “How might you be doing that, my burglar?”

“That.” Bilbo said, a little breathless because  _ damn _ this dwarf, he  _ knew _ what it did to Bilbo to hear him refer to the hobbit as such, it was something about the way Thorin rolled his ‘r’s’ in the word that sent shivers down Bilbo’s spine. “Is not something that is to be discussed in company, my  _ king _ .” 

Thorin looked as if he was barely restraining himself from dragging Bilbo to their chambers there and then. Bilbo smiled mischievously at his husband before disentangling their fingers so he could reach for the roast pig that sat to Thorin’s right.

“You;” growled Thorin, leaning in close so his words were hot and sensual against Bilbo’s sensitive ear; “are a menace.”

Bilbo just grinned back at him as he scooped up a healthy dose of potatoes and dumped them on the king’s plate.

  
  


Bilbo should have expected the dancing, it was customary to celebrate by dancing in hobbit traditions after all but he hadn’t  _ truly _ expected  _ dwarves _ to dance. Though, the kind of dancing that was going on would surely put at least a good few dozen hobbits in an early grave. It was more foot stomping and yelling than light footwork and gentle touches.

Bilbo watched gleefully as his husband was dragged around the dancefloor by his sister, Thorin’s long suffering pout occasionally giving way to a fond smile but only when Dis looked away. Bilbo and Thorin had shared the customary first dance, which had been the most hobbit-ish thus far, more counted steps and turns than anything else.

Fili and Kili were taking great joy in spinning each other around as fast as they possibly could. Bilbo did not need to be a seer to know that both of them would be nursing monstrous headaches come the morning. He made a mental note to sic Frodo on them at the earliest possible opportunity. 

Bilbo frowned when he noticed Ori hunched over a mug of ale at a nearby table after having just refused yet another request to dance, their Company’s scholar was quite the hot commodity if the appreciative stares he was receiving were anything to go by. However, Bilbo knew that Ori was holding out in the hope that one particular dwarf would ask him to dance. Bilbo scanned the room and found Dwalin glaring balefully at Ori’s latest suitor from behind his own mug of ale. 

_ Dwarves. _ Bilbo bemoaned, depositing a flagging Frodo into the arms of the nearest Company member, who turned out to be Bifur, who looked delighted to have been handed the young hobbit and immediately withdrew a wooden dragon for Frodo to play with, though the hobbitling would no doubt be asleep before long, the toy was enthusiastically received nonetheless.

“Are you going to ask him to dance or what?” Bilbo demanded as he came to stand next to Dwalin with his hands on his hips. He chose not to acknowledge the little voice in his head that was telling him that he both looked  _ and _ sounded like his mother.

“What?” Dwalin blinked up at Bilbo in surprise, clearly having thought that his glowering had gone unnoticed.

“Are you going to ask Ori to dance?” Bilbo asked, sighing and sitting down next to the dwarf when Dwalin did not answer and lowered his eyes to his ever-dwindling mug of ale. “Dwalin, he  _ wants _ to dance with you. Why else would he be turning away other damn dwarf who asks him?”

“Why would a lovely, young thing like him want a battered, old warrior like me?” Dwalin muttered, Bilbo knew he did not mean for him to hear but he did.

Bilbo reached out the hand that was not adorned with gold and jewels and cuffed Dwalin lightly across the head.

“That’s quite enough of that, thank you very much.” Bilbo reprimanded, smiling a little when Dwalin looked sufficiently chastised. “As the consort to your king, I demand that you ask Ori to dance.”

Dwalin’s face drained of colour but he quickly recovered, gulped the last of his ale and stood obligingly.

“What if he says no?” Dwalin asked quietly, hands twisting together now he did not have the mug of ale between them.

“He will  _ not _ .” Bilbo assured him then waved him away. “Off you go then.”

Bilbo stood then too and made his way back to the slightly raised table at the top of the hall so he could see proceedings. He made it just in time to see Dwalin come to a stop in front of Ori, who had not noticed his approach due to the large number of dwarves in the hall. Ori looked up at Dwalin with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, Dwalin said something then stuck out his hand. Bilbo grinned happily as Ori nodded fervently and abandoned the mug he had been clutching to grasp Dwalin’s hand and allowed the older dwarf to tug him to his feet.

Dwalin and Ori merged seamlessly into the whirl of dancing dwarves in the middle of the hall, Dwalin smiling at Ori with soft, nigh on adoring eyes as Ori gazed back with a similar expression.

Bilbo was so entranced watching them dance that he damn near jumped out of his skin when large, solid arms circled his waist and he was tugged back to rest against an equally large and solid chest.

“What has you looking so pleased with yourself?” Thorin said lowly, breath sweeping over Bilbo’s sensitive ear and making him shudder a little.

“Dwalin finally asked Ori to dance.” Bilbo said smugly, resisting the urge to clap when the dance finished and Ori, clearly gathering all his courage, leaned up to press a terribly gentle kiss against Dwalin’s cheek; said cheek turned a pretty pink in response.

“ _ Finally _ .” Thorin sighed heavily.

Bilbo scoffed and batted him on the shoulder lightly with the back of his unadorned hand. 

“As if  _ you _ have any leg to stand on in terms of obliviousness.” Bilbo said laughing.

“You’re so cruel to me, dear one.” Thorin lamented with a faux weary sigh that had Bilbo laughing even more.

“Lies and slander!” Bilbo cried dramatically, spinning in his husband’s arms. 

Bilbo was as used to seeing Thorin gaze at him lovingly as one could be, but it still took Bilbo’s breath away when he saw his husband looking at him like he was the greatest treasure he could ever behold. Thorin leaned down and pressed his forehead against Bilbo’s own, their eyes never once straying from each others.

“I adore you.” Thorin said quietly, he said it so gently that even if someone had been right beside them, they would not have heard him and that made Bilbo’s heart swell all the more because those reverent words were Bilbo’s and Bilbo’s alone.

“As I adore you, my king.” Bilbo returned, reaching up a hand to cradle Thorin’s face gently.

“I meant what I said earlier.” Thorin said softly, eyes twitching upwards to Bilbo’s head where his coronet still sat. “You look truly magnificent tonight, my hobbit.”

Bilbo blushed hotly at the praise, eyes flicking away from Thorin’s intense gaze as embarrassment flushed through him.

“We are no longer required to stay.” Thorin said, voice low in a way that made Bilbo shudder a little. “And Dis has volunteered to take Frodo for the night.”

“And just what do you have in mind?” Bilbo teased, trying not to gasp as one of Thorin’s hands slid down from his waist and over his backside, he didn’t want to even  _ think _ about how many people could see them at this moment.

“I do believe you mentioned a reward?” Thorin asked with a wicked grin before burying his face in Bilbo’s neck, from afar it would look like any other close embrace but only Bilbo could feel the soft kisses that Thorin was lavishing on the sensitive skin.

“I did, didn’t I?” Bilbo agreed faintly as Thorin’s kisses grew wetter and more intense and Bilbo could feel his knees growing weak as Thorin’s beard scraped over his skin.

“Come, ghivashel.” Thorin said, standing straight once more as he took Bilbo’s hand in his own and pulled him into his side so he was once more facing the many dwarves in the hall. “My consort and I will bid you goodnight, please continue to enjoy the festivities. I have been informed that breakfast will run later in the morning to allow you all to get at least  _ some _ sleep.”

Thorin’s words are met with a rippling chuckle and he bids them a final goodnight before he is dragging Bilbo through the crowds to the doors. Bilbo noticed that there are several dwarven maidens, including Ungar’s daughter, who glare at him as he is whisked from the hall, each of them clutching some sort of gift that they would have no doubt tried to bestow upon Thorin but he is too busy laughing at his husband’s antics to give a damn about them. 

  
  
  


Thorin is upon Bilbo as soon as they have closed the doors to their bed chambers, pressing him into the door and his lips fastening to Bilbo’s with practised ease as his large hands cling the hobbit to him.

“Thorin…” Bilbo managed to gasp as Thorin began trailing hot, wet kisses down his neck. “Am I not meant to be rewarding you?”

“This;” Thorin growled, stepping away a little to pull Bilbo’s tunic and undershirt over his head, being more cautious than he would normally so as not to dislodge the coronet on his consort’s head; “ _ is _ my reward.” 

Bilbo was about to reply but was cut off abruptly when Thorin fell to his knees and pressed his lips to the soft skin of Bilbo’s tummy. Bilbo’s head thudded back against the solid door as a loud moan escaped him, he could only hope that the guards had heeded Thorin’s request and were stationed at the entrance to the royal wing rather than the entrance to their chambers.

Thorin lavished kisses against Bilbo’s chest as his hands kneaded the soft mounds of Bilbo’s backside. The king grinned as he wrapped his lips around a nipple and Bilbo arched into his mouth with a gasping moan. Bilbo’s hands, which had already taken purchase in Thorin’s hair, clung tighter and pulled him closer.

“ _ Bed… _ ” Bilbo gasped a few moments later, when Thorin’s mouth took a brief break from sucking on his increasingly sensitive skin allowing him a few moments of function before he no doubt went unintelligible with pleasure once more.

Bilbo squeaked when Thorin abruptly stood and hauled him up with ease. It would never fail to fluster Bilbo that his husband could pick him up and carry him around so easily.

“Tell me what you wish of me, dear one.” Thorin requested, voice low in Bilbo’s ear before he deposited Bilbo on their bed, the hobbit bouncing on the bed gently as he did.

“I am yours, my king.” Bilbo said, reaching for the ties on his breeches and beginning to shuffle them off as Thorin stood above him with hungry eyes and twitching hands, as if unsure where to touch first. “My wish is that you do what  _ you _ wish.”

“Dangerous words, my burglar.” Thorin teased, stripping himself of his own tunic and undershirt before bending to divest himself of his boots; he froze when he rose once more to see that Bilbo had flung his breeches off the bed and now lay there, naked save for the jewels that Thorin had crafted for him and achingly hard. “ _ Bilbo _ …”

“Are you going to stand there and stare all night or?” Bilbo grinned, fondling his cock teasingly and laughing when Thorin all but launched himself onto the bed.

Bilbo scrambled back so he was leaning against the numerous pillows at the head of the bed, spreading his legs, rather shamelessly, so Thorin could reach up to kiss him.

“You are going to be the death of me.” Thorin growled, running a hand over Bilbo’s pale thigh as the other reached up to caress his still glistening nipple.

“I should hope not.” Bilbo answered tartly. “I rather like you alive as it happens.”

Thorin’s answering chuckle rumbled low in his chest and sent shivers down Bilbo’s spine.

“Do as I wish, yes?” Thorin asked, looking up to meet Bilbo’s eyes with a raised eyebrow. 

Had Bilbo had his wits about him, he would have seen the mischievous twinkle in his husband’s eye but he most certainly did  _ not _ .

“Yes!” Bilbo gasped as the hand on his thigh trailed lightly over his aching cock.

Bilbo barely had time to contemplate what Thorin had planned before he found himself dragged down by the knees to lie flat on the bed and then his knees were pressed into his chest and Thorin grinned wickedly up at him from his place between Bilbo’s spread thighs.

“Let me hear you.” Thorin requested, his tone leaving no room for argument nor disobedience as he pressed a kiss to Bilbo’s thigh, letting his beard scrape over the skin there making Bilbo shudder and Thorin chuckle.

Bilbo expected the action now but the first touch of Thorin’s tongue against his tightly furled hole had him arching off the bed and crying out nonetheless.

“Thorin!” Bilbo cried, reaching down to entangle his fingers in Thorin’s hair as his tongue breached him and his beard tickled the soft skin of his backside, the crown that still sat atop Thorin’s head finally dislodging and tumbling onto the soft rug below the bed, though neither took any notice. He broke his legs free of Thorin’s steady grip and wrapped them around his husband’s head, the action gaining a guttural growl from Thorin as he delved his tongue deeper and harder into Bilbo.

Bilbo soon lost all coherent thought processes, his whole world slimmed down to the Thorin’s tongue against him, his beard that was creating the most delightful friction against his thighs, the tight grip that Thorin had on his knees to keep them locked around his head in the way that he loved and his own litany of ‘ _ please, Thorin, merciful heavens, please Thorin’. _

All too soon, Bilbo could feel the hot curl of his release pooling in his belly; he desperately tried to shove it away but he couldn’t. Bilbo tugged twice sharply on Thorin’s hair to warn him that he was close, Bilbo had expected Thorin to rise then but it only seemed to encourage him more.

“Thorin!” Bilbo gasped as pleasure overwhelmed him and his body arched off the bed, his release making him shudder as he clung to Thorin’s hair and his legs shook as they slid from their place around Thorin’s head onto the soft sheets.

“How was that, my dear?” Thorin asked, delivering one last sweeping lick to Bilbo’s hole that had the hobbit whining at the bristly touch to the sensitive area.

“I have passed into the Halls of the Undying, my time on this earthly plane has come to an end and I am at peace.” Bilbo sighed dramatically, unable to hold back his giggles when Thorin poked him in the side. “What do you wish to do next, husband mine?”

“Just a moment, ghivashel.” Thorin said as he trailed a hand through Bilbo’s release that was cooling on his stomach. 

Thorin’s reverent touch and adoring gaze was making Bilbo ache once more, it made him recall how surprised Thorin had been when they had first been together and he had found that Bilbo could climax thrice without the need for much respite, and a further few if given the time to recover. To say that the limits of Bilbo’s recuperation time had been thoroughly tested since then would be a vast understatement.

“I wish to be in you, dear one.” Thorin said after a long moment, his eyes finally looking away from Bilbo’s release up to Bilbo’s eyes that were looking back at him with what Bilbo had no doubt was a sickeningly adoring expression. 

“Please!” Bilbo cried out, body arching as Thorin trailed a finger down from his stomach back to his hole, the skin there deliciously sensitive.

Thorin growled possessively at the noise Bilbo made and reached for the oil that they kept on the nightstand. He did not hesitate to oil up three of his fingers and immediately slip two of them into Bilbo who keened in pleasure as Thorin’s fingers honed in on the spot that made him see stars with an accuracy that would never fail to surprise him.

“You are  _ mine _ .” Thorin said, voice low and gruff as he scissored his fingers inside Bilbo. “There were so many others tonight, looking at you and wishing that they could warm your bed even for one night but they cannot have you.”

Bilbo is pretty certain that Thorin is talking nonsense but there’s something so deeply possessive in his voice that it makes a shudder run down his spine.

“Yours!” Bilbo cried, gasping around the word as Thorin leaned forward to suck one of his nipples into his mouth, his beard rubbing his skin in the most delightful way as he slipped another finger into Bilbo’s hole. “I’m ready, please Thorin. I need you.”

Thorin growled at the needy tone in Bilbo’s plea, he would be ashamed of the desperation there but he’s too engrossed in his pleasure to care. Thorin separated himself from Bilbo’s chest, somewhat reluctantly Bilbo noticed. 

Bilbo and Thorin moaned in unison when Thorin slid inside Bilbo.

“Bilbo…” Thorin groaned, as Bilbo pulled him closer by wrapping his legs around the king’s hips.

Thorin leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Bilbo’s lips, it was so gentle and adoring that it had butterflies erupting in Bilbo’s stomach. Bilbo stroked his hands gently down Thorin’s face until they came to rest in his beard.

They stayed like that for a few moments, Thorin’s hands holding Bilbo’s hips in a gentle hold and kissing him with even gentler lips.

“ _ Move.”  _ Bilbo demanded when the slight ache had subsided and he became desperate for Thorin and the release that he could already feel coiling in his stomach once again.

Thorin shifted his hands so they were braced either side of Bilbo’s head and drew his hips back with an almost maddening slowness that had Bilbo keening and grappling at the king’s shoulders for some semblance of purchase before Thorin grinned down at the hobbit and thrust forward sharply. 

Bilbo moaned as Thorin’s thrusts became sharper and deeper, the sturdy oak of their bed-frame was too well made to creek but it moved with them all the same. Bilbo didn’t even try to hold back the gasps and moans that escaped him with every thrust, he knew how much Thorin adored hearing him come undone, just as Thorin didn’t hold back his own muttered endearments and occasional breathy groan.

“Ghivashel…” Thorin said softly, raising one of his hands to trace it reverently down Bilbo’s flushed cheek. “My dearest treasure.”

The endearments and the adoring look in Thorin’s eyes was Bilbo’s undoing, he arched into Thorin even more and grasped at the dwarf’s hair as he shuddered through his release, crying out Thorin’s name.

Thorin swooped down to capture Bilbo’s lips in a searing kiss as he was riding out the aftershocks, he had paused in his thrusts in order to just watch his husband in the throes of pleasure.

“Thorin,  _ please _ .” Bilbo said, voice little more than a whine when they broke apart once more.

Bilbo knew that Thorin would know what he was begging for, he had never made any secret of how much he enjoyed watching the King Under the Mountain come apart above him.

As Thorin began thrusting once more, Bilbo let one of his hands remain entangled in Thorin’s now dishevelled hair, fingers scratching lightly at his sensitive scalp making a shudder run through the dwarf. With his other hand, Bilbo trailed it down his husband’s face then down his neck to his chest and rested it over where the pretty purple sprigs of lavender sat against his pale skin.

Thorin clasped his own hand over Bilbo’s, keeping it flat on his chest; his thrusts never slowing nor faltering.

“It beats for you, my hobbit.” Thorin said, voice low and a little breathless, the sound of it sending a shiver through Bilbo. “I vowed to you once and I vow it again now, you are the sole keeper of my heart. No creature will ever be able to tempt me from your side, this I promise you.”

Bilbo looked up at Thorin with wide eyes that were suspiciously wet now he came to think about it.

“I adore you.” Thorin continued, raising Bilbo’s hand to his lips to press a gentle kiss to the tips before placing it back over his heart. “You are more precious to me than all the treasures of Middle Earth. My ghivashel…”

Thorin cut off with a gasp as Bilbo tightened around him.

“My husband, my king, my darling.” Bilbo replied softly, pulling Thorin down by the hand in his hair to kiss him with gentleness that didn’t quite match Thorin’s almost brutal thrusts.

“ _ Bilbo _ …” Thorin moaned against Bilbo’s lips as he thrust his hips forward sharply one last time before releasing inside his husband.

Bilbo gasped at the feeling of Thorin releasing deep inside him and felt his own release crash over him like a wave once again.

  
  


A few moments later, Thorin collapsed down next to Bilbo on the bed. He always was terribly careful not to flop down right on top of Bilbo lest he crush the hobbit. Thorin reached up and gently slipped the skewed coronet from Bilbo’s head and placed it on the bedside table before turning back to his smiling hobbit husband.

“I believe that I owe my sister thanks for your attire today.” Thorin said, voice wry.

“Indeed.” Bilbo laughed brightly, not missing how Thorin gazed at him adoringly as he did. “She threatened not to allow me access to the library for a month! You and the boys were not kidding when you said she could be terrifying.”

“I learned long ago simply to do as I am told.” Thorin agreed, he propped himself up on his elbow so he could gaze down at Bilbo. “You were truly radiant today, Bilbo.”

“Thank you.” Bilbo said quietly, trying to cool the hot blush colouring his cheeks by will alone. “I rather enjoyed seeing you fight today.”

“Hmmm…” Thorin hummed happily, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Bilbo’s soaked brow. “ _ I  _ rather enjoyed watching you threaten that brute of a Blacklock.”

Thorin laughed, loud and happy, as Bilbo buried his face in his neck. The hobbit’s burrowing soon turned to soft kisses which turned to bites that had the king gasping once more. Bilbo grinned against the soft skin of Thorin’s neck as he bit down hard. 

“Bilbo…” Thorin said, voice low in warning but he was smiling when Bilbo raised his head to meet his eyes. Bilbo shuffled himself up a little then leaned down to press a gentle kiss to Thorin’s waiting lips. “You really are quite adorable when you’re jealous, my burglar.”

Thorin’s words had Bilbo reeling back to look down at him in shock.

“You knew?” Bilbo asked incredulously.

“I may not be the most observant of dwarves.” Thorin acquiesced with a soft smile that had Bilbo’s stomach fluttering a little. “But a fool I am not, dearest.”

Bilbo couldn’t help the loud laugh that escaped him, he  _ knew _ that Thorin had noticed something (his words during their love making had made that known) but he didn’t realise that Thorin had sensed his jealousy, he had thought he had hid that quite well. Thorin laughed along with him and Bilbo was reminded, just like he was every time, how much he loved the sound of Thorin’s laughter.

“We should sleep.” Thorin said as they recovered from their laughter, both of them are still a little breathless. “Frodo will no doubt demand to see us as soon as the sun rises.”

“Very true.” Bilbo agreed, Frodo was much like a sunflower, awake as soon as the sun rose then asleep as it fell back below the horizon. “Will you help me?”

Bilbo raised his hand to Thorin’s face, he had looked over the jewel encrusted bracelet earlier in the day and had not been able to find a simple way to detach it. Thorin swiftly removed it though, too quickly for Bilbo to watch how he did so.

“You are my greatest treasure, Bilbo Baggins.” Thorin said, voice low and sincere, he punctuated his words with a gentle kiss to the palm of Bilbo’s hand that he then held against his chest.

“And you, Thorin Oakenshield, are a sap.” Bilbo grinned but he wasn’t fooling anyone, he knew he was blushing from the tips of his pointed ears to the tips of his furry toes.Thorin hummed as he made no move to argue the accusation. “But you are  _ my _ sap.”

Thorin chuckled at Bilbo’s wide smile and mischievous twinkling eyes, he swept in to kiss Bilbo gently once more, before settling back into the pillows and allowing Bilbo to cuddle into his side. Bilbo had always found the mountain cold but upon sharing a bed with Thorin for the first time, had found that the dwarf king practically radiated heat therefore had employed him as both his personal fireplace and teddy bear.

“Goodnight, ghivashel.” Thorin said, pressing a kiss to Bilbo’s curly mop of hair once he had settled his head on Thorin’s chest and curled himself into his side so as to make the most of the dwarf’s heat.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” Bilbo replied sleepily, he had not thought himself particularly tired but settling down had brought about heavy eyes. 

As he drifted off to sleep in the arms of his husband, Bilbo couldn’t help but be smug as he knew how many of those dwarven maidens would have killed to be him right now.

  
  
  


Morning’s first light did indeed bring a sprightly and excitable Frodo to their chambers, the hobbitling clambering onto the bed and bouncing on top of his uncles before Dis could stop him. Bilbo took a moment to be thankful that he and Thorin had awoken just enough at some point before sunrise to slide on their pyjamas before immediately falling back asleep.

“Wake up Uncles!” Frodo cried, far too loudly for such an early hour.

“Frodo, darling, quieter.” Bilbo chastised gently, tugging the fauntling down so he was sitting on the bed rather than bouncing on it.

“If you think that was loud, you should have heard him waking Fili and Kili.” Dis said, the grin in her voice obvious, as she came to stand at the side of their bed.

“Would I be correct in guessing that they are nursing sore heads this morning?” Thorin grumbled as he blinked blearily up at his sister. 

“If not, they certainly are now.” Dis smiled brightly. “And they’re not the only ones, according to the guards, there were still some drinking as the morning light broke.”

Bilbo winced at the thought of drinking for so long, he could keep up with the dwarves of Erebor just as well as the next hobbit but to drink for that long, and dwarven ale at that? No, definitely not.

  
  


Dis swept Frodo away to allow Bilbo and Thorin to dress, though it took more time for Bilbo to swat away Thorin’s wandering hands than it did to actually bathe and dress. 

They were expected at the main gate to oversee the escorting of Ungar from the halls of Erebor, as was tradition when someone was banished. 

“Why are you nervous, my hobbit?” Thorin asked with a frown, pausing in the lacing of his heavy boots to watch as said hobbit paced the floor, wringing his hands.

“It’s just… I mean I… It’s…” Bilbo stuttered then threw up his hands in despair. “Oh I don’t know.”

“Come here, ghivashel.” Thorin reached out and tugged Bilbo toward him gently so he stood between Thorin’s thighs. “Something is making you nervous, is it not better to get it off your chest now rather than bottle it up for it to blow up later?”

_ Bother _ , thought Bilbo, he hated it when Thorin talked sense like that. Bilbo took a deep steadying breath before doing as he was asked.

“I am worried that my having banished Ungar from Erebor will cause further tension with the rest of the Blacklock clan. In particular, his daughter, who is a vapid admirer of yours. I fear that she will try something more drastic than compliments and dainty trinkets in order to gain your favour thus granting her father permission to return. I fear that she or someone in allegiance with her may harm Frodo or I to get us out of the way, so to say. I fear that should she not get her own way, she may harm you or someone else that we hold dear.” 

Thorin waited patiently until Bilbo had stopped, the hobbit’s breathing slightly laboured from saying so much without having barely drawn breath. 

“Bilbo, my darling.” Thorin said softly, gripping Bilbo’s hands in his securely but gently all at once. “I understand your worry, I do. But you  _ must _ know that no harm shall come to you or Frodo whilst I am alive.”

Thorin punctuated his statement with a kiss to their clasped hands.

Bilbo smiled softly at his husband, he knew that Thorin would do his very best to protect both him and Frodo but Thorin could not be with them every hour of the day, he was the king after all.

Bilbo is about to reply when there is a knock on the door to their chambers and at Thorin’s call of ‘ _ enter’ _ , a guard enters and bows deeply before straightening and saluting the king and consort.

“Your majesties, the sun has almost fully risen.” The guard said stiffly though his rigid stance softened a little as Bilbo smiles gently at him. “The traitor is being escorted to the gates as we speak.”

“Thank you, Misler.” Thorin said with an approving nod. “We will be out in a moment.”

Misler looked both stunned and overjoyed when the king addressed him by name, but he quickly recovered and bowed deeply once again before marching back out the door where he would wait for them to exit and escort them, no doubt with several other guards, to the Main Gate.

“Are you ready for this, my dear?” Thorin asked, finishing lacing his boots with swiftness that Bilbo was sure he would never begin to master.

“I shall simply have to be.” Bilbo said with a deep sigh, he truly loathed confrontation other than where absolutely necessary, and he had a feeling that this could end very badly.

“I will be by your side at all times.” Thorin reassured him, he pressed a firm kiss to Bilbo’s forehead then offered his arm to his consort.

Bilbo took the proffered arm and clutched tight to Thorin for a long moment before allowing his grip to relax with a deep, steadying breath. 

  
  


Sunrise over the Main Gate of Erebor is a sight that Bilbo will never tire of, the weak sunshine making the far off roofs of Dale, covered in the first freshly fallen snow of Winter, glitter prettily. 

It seemed like the whole of Erebor had turned out to see the banishing of Ungar. Bilbo noted with a small twinge of amusement that there were more than a few dwarves present look rather worse for wear, and Fili and Kili are most definitely among that contingent. 

Ungar was brought before a glaring and wrathful Thorin, the king stood tall in the morning light, looking every inch the conquering hero he was. The traitorous dwarf was forced to kneel and look up to where Thorin and Bilbo stood above him atop the Main Gate, the citizens of Erebor at their backs. Bilbo knew most were there in a silent show of solidarity with the royal family, in addition to their curiosity, but he was not foolish enough to believe that the banishing a single dwarf will quell the other upstarts intentions.

“Citizens of Erebor.” Thorin’s voice rang out clear as day across the silent crowds, the sudden loudness of it startling a few birds from their nests. “Before you stands a dwarf who dared to threaten the Consort of Erebor’s position in what was one of our most sacred traditions. For this act, he is to banished from the Halls of Erebor, never to return. Ungar, son of Rugar, do you have anything to say in your defence?”

“I stand by my words and my actions, your majesty.” Ungar replied defiantly, he still looked up at the king with something akin to warmth, but all warmth and appreciation disappeared abruptly as his gaze slid to where Bilbo stood at his side, “I have faith that I will be welcomed into the halls of The Lonely Mountain once again, when a dwarven consort sits at your side.”

The conviction and surety in Ungar’s voice sends a horrible chill down Bilbo’s spine, he endlessly thankful that Frodo had not joined them for this, instead he is safe in his rooms with an, ever happy to watch the fauntling, Bifur. 

Ungar’s words have Thorin stiffening at Bilbo’s side, the king looking even more enraged with each passing moment. 

“You will never set foot in these hallowed halls as long as there is a Durin on the throne.” Thorin said, a vicious smile tugging at his lips when Ungar blanched at his words. “You will be escorted back to the Iron Hills where you will be subject to observation by the guards of those halls, any signs of upstart or unfavourable behaviour will be reported directly back to me and you will be subject to the full extent of dwarven justice. Do you understand these terms?”

Ungar’s battle hardened face twisted into a nasty sneer but he nodded nonetheless. He is then dragged to his feet by the guards who stood at his side during the exchange and is forced to turn and march away from The Lonely Mountain for the last time. 

  
  


Thorin and Bilbo take a moment to greet some of those gathered at the gates warmly but Thorin soon ushers Bilbo back to their rooms and stationed three more guards than normal at their doors, he sends for the Company as well as Dis and Frodo to join them immediately. Bilbo commandeered one of the guards at the door and sent him to the kitchens to ask for breakfast to be sent to the dining room in their quarters, there is no way he is going any longer without breakfast.

Bilbo jumped, startled, as Thorin swept him into his arms and simply held him close. Thorin buried his face in Bilbo’s hair as his hands clutched at Bilbo’s cloak that he had yet to take off.

“What’s this about?” Bilbo laughed, though he was aware it was slightly hysterical sounding, he was sure he knew exactly what this was about. Ungar’s words had unsettled them both deeply.

“I shall not allow any harm to come to you.” Thorin said, brushing over Bilbo’s question as he withdrew slightly so he could look Bilbo in the eye. “I swear it Bilbo, I will not allow any harm to come to you or Frodo, you have my word.”

Bilbo took Thorin’s face in his hands gently. “I know this, darling.”

Thorin sighed wearily before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to Bilbo’s waiting lips. They break apart as the doors swing open with force and Fili and Kili tumble in, quickly followed by the rest of the Company, Dis and Frodo in the middle of the group, at least one dwarf on every side of them.

“Uncle!” Frodo cried joyously, running to Bilbo as soon as Dis put him down. “Bifur made me a model of you, look!”

Bilbo laughed despite his worries as Frodo waved the little figure in front of his face, he had to catch the hobbitling’s wrist to even determine that it was anything more than a blur of wood. Upon inspection, Bilbo finds that the figure is indeed an intricately detailed wooden likeness of Bilbo. He took a long moment to marvel at Bifur’s skill, the figure’s outfit is that of the one that Bilbo wore on the journey to Erebor, an exact likeness right down to the details on the buttons of his waistcoat and the intricate carvings that adorn the base of the blade of Sting.

“How wonderful!” Bilbo exclaimed to a grinning Frodo. “Are you going to keep it with your other figures?”

Frodo has a box in his room that he kept his figurines and other toys from Bifur in, they’re some of his most prized possessions, those of the Company being his most beloved. So far, he had carvings of Thorin, Fili, Kili, Ori, Bombur, and Oin, and now, of course, Bilbo. Frodo plays with these figures most of all, at least one being on his person at all times. 

“Bifur said that he shall make me Dwalin next.” Frodo said excitedly as Bilbo carried him to the dining room where the others had settled at the table.

“Did you remember to say thank you?” Bilbo asked gently, he knew that Frodo most likely would have but he may have forgotten in his excitement. 

Frodo’s reply is cut off by a veritable troop of dwarves carting in more breakfast foods than Bilbo would have once considered impossible for one group of fourteen dwarves and two hobbits to consume, but his time in Erebor had swiftly changed that view. 

Bifur must have heard Bilbo’s question to Frodo as he leaned forward once the food had been set down to reply himself. 

“The lad said thank you more than a dozen times, never fear Master Baggins, his manners have yet to be corrupted.” Bifur said with a conspiratorial smile as he glanced at the two princes who seemed to have abandoned all decorum and manners and were digging into their food with fervour, much to their mother’s growing horror.

Bifur’s words make Bilbo smile despite worry weighing heavy on his mind.

Thorin waited for the kitchen staff to depart before standing to address the Company.

“I presume that you will have heard, or heard of, Ungar’s words at the gate this morning.” Thorin began, waiting for all those present to nod, and with a glance to Frodo on Bilbo’s lap to ensure that the young hobbit is just as distracted by toast and jam as he usually is at breakfast, before continuing. “We do not know how many dwarves within the mountain share his views, only that he was not the only one.” 

His words are met with hateful scowls and many shaking heads, Dwalin’s thunderous expression alone is enough to strike fear into even the most battle hardened warrior. 

“What are we to do about it?” Dis asked, taking a delicate sip of her tea, Bilbo is sure that the look in her eyes does not bode well for her adversaries. 

“I would ask that one of you be with Bilbo and Frodo at all times.” Thorin said, once again glancing at the contentedly eating little hobbit with a warm smile but Bilbo noticed that it didn’t quite reach his eyes which were tight with worry. He looked to Bilbo for assurance, as he often did, it was a habit he had developed shortly after his ascension to the throne when he simply needed someone to reassure him he wasn’t doing something drastically wrong, he had never grown out of the habit even after several years as king, much to Bilbo’s amusement. Bilbo smiled at him, and reached out to take his hand to further reassure the worried king. “Ungar’s words have troubled me deeply and I dare not trust their safety to none but my most trusted.”

Thorin’s words have all those present straightening, Bilbo knows that each and every member of the Company would protect them to the very best of their ability but to see them all nod with certainty, warms his heart more than he could ever thought.

“We do not know when they will act so vigilance is key.” Thorin continued, squeezing Bilbo’s hand gently. “Any of those who attempt to harm either of my hobbits will be met with the end of my sword.”

The dwarves around the table nod in agreement, Bilbo has no doubt that each one of them would gladly take a sword or an axe to the throat of anyone who attempted to harm Frodo or himself. He can’t help but allow a small smile to grace his lips at his husband’s words, Thorin’s use of ‘ _ my hobbits’ _ made his stomach flutter like an adolescent who had just received flowers for the first time.

“My love.” Thorin turned to Bilbo, he bent to press a fierce kiss to the back of Bilbo’s hand. “I ask that you do not go anywhere alone, if you need to go anywhere, I ask that you summon one of our trusted friends. I fear for both your life, and that of our little one.” 

Thorin stooped down to press a kiss to Frodo’s wild curls as the hobbitling obliviously plays with his new carving, defeating a salt shaker with sharp jab of the figure’s version of Sting and giggling at his triumph. 

“I promise, Thorin.” Bilbo vowed seriously, squeezing Thorin’s hand reassuringly. “I will do everything I can to ensure Frodo’s safety.”

Thorin looked like he was about to argue with Bilbo’s choice of words but he was stopped from doing so by Kili piping up from further down the table.

“Is there anyone in particular we should watch, Uncle?” 

“Good question, Kili.” Thorin praised, smiling warmly at his nephew when he preened at the compliment. “I would ask that you watch for those from the Iron Hills, in particular Ungar’s daughter, Roga, and her acquaintances. They may seek retribution for his banishment in the coming days, then again, they may wait and lull us into a false sense of security so we drop our guard. This is why it is imperative that we do no such thing.”

Thorin sat down and allowed the Company to eat the breakfast feast before them. Thorin’s weary sigh has Bilbo depositing Frodo into a surprised king’s lap.

“We will be protected, dearest.” Bilbo reassured him, leaning over to press a kiss to Thorin’s cheek then one to Frodo’s curls as the little hobbit curled into Thorin’s chest and burrowed into his beard. “No-one in this room will allow any harm to come to us, you have to know that.”

“I do.” Thorin agreed, with another deep sigh, as he turned to look at a worried and frowning Bilbo. “It will not stop my worry, however.”

“I know.” Bilbo reached across to cup Thorin’s cheek.

Bilbo turned back to his breakfast, a horrible feeling that something terrible was going to happen settled in his stomach, though he forced himself to eat despite his uncharacteristic lack of appetite lest he worry Thorin more. He knew that this would be a burden that Thorin would carry with him all the time, at least until the last of those conspiring against them are caught. 

  
  
  


By the end of the winter, Bilbo is nearing the very end of his rope. He knew that his friends and family are only doing as their king requested of them and keeping Bilbo and Frodo safe, but if he had to endure Kili’s endless questions, Dis’ fluttering, Dwalin’s stoic presence or Nori’s purposefully unsubtle following for much longer, he may go mad. 

It was only Thorin’s words about those who would seek to do them harm, lulling them into a false sense of security that stayed his tongue and soothed his fraying temper. 

There has been no further action by any of those dwarves since Ungar’s banishment, though Nori has reported that some persons of interest have been seen whispering in dark corners of the halls. At this revelation, Thorin immediately increased the patrols that covered the lower halls. Though there is no evidence or further information to be had, Thorin remained on edge and is at Bilbo and Frodo’s side every moment that his duties allow him to be.

  
  
  


It is the final market day of winter, the market is bustling as always. Frodo clung dutifully to Bilbo’s hand as they made their purchases as they always did, Gloin following close behind, eyes watching for any signs of unrest. 

There is a sudden burst of loud cries from the far end of the market, it took Bilbo a moment to realise that those at that end were surging back towards them with alarming speed. 

“Fire! Fire!” Someone cried loudly as the crowds began to swarm around Bilbo, Frodo and Gloin.

Bilbo swept Frodo into his arms when he suddenly felt the fauntling’s hand beginning to slip from his own as more panicked dwarves rushed by them. Bilbo moved with the crowd once he had Frodo safely against him, he quickly realised he had lost sight of Gloin, which he had always assumed was hard to do given the dwarf’s unusual height. 

He was suddenly and swiftly knocked off course by someone with much more weight than he possessed. It took Bilbo by such surprise that it took him a moment to blink away his bewilderment and realise that he had been shoved down a side corridor that seemed to have no end. The din of panicked noise suddenly dulled in the dark, cramped, cold space.

Bilbo whirled around back toward the market hall, arms curled protectively around a shaking Frodo, a hand against the young hobbit’s head so his face is hidden in Bilbo’s shoulder. Bilbo found his only visibly way out blocked by two sneering dwarves, one with deep black hair like that of the banished Ungar brandishing a deadly looking axe and the other with unassuming brown hair, common among the dwarves of Erebor, holding a sword up at an increasingly shaking Bilbo.

“Walk.” The black haired one ordered, voice gruff and demanding.

“Or what?” Bilbo argued, hoping to buy at least a little time to allow Gloin to alert Thorin and the others.

“Or you and that  _ thing _ die.” The brown haired one sneered, stepping forward in one large step that had his sword coming far too close to Frodo for Bilbo’s liking. 

His words have Bilbo turning and facing the seemingly endless corridor before them, he will walk until his feet are hairless if it means that Frodo is safe from brutes such as these. 

It is an indeterminate time later that one of them called to Bilbo to stop and to turn to his right and enter the doorway there. 

After so long walking in virtual darkness, it takes a long moment for Bilbo’s eyes to adjust to stepping into a room lit with candlelight. Once they do, he finds himself facing a grinning Roga who stands with a dagger in her hand. 

Bilbo glanced around frantically to try and find an alternative way out but finds that every inch of wall is occupied by sneering and maniacally grinning dwarves. Bilbo clung to Frodo ever tighter, the little hobbit a shaking and whimpering mess in Bilbo’s arms. Bilbo hated himself for not being able to better protect his beloved nephew, he resolved to attempt to save Frodo at the very least. It is Bilbo these dwarves want gone most of all, if he’s able to convince them that Frodo has not seen any of their faces, they may let him go.

“Do you know why you are here, halfbreed?” Roga sneered, a horrid glint in her eyes as Bilbo was shoved closer to her by the two dwarves who had escorted them here. 

“You wish to take my place at my husband’s side.” Bilbo answered simply, he took a moment to be proud of the fact that his voice did not shake though he could himself tremble physically. 

“It never should have been your place!” Roga exploded, waving her dagger in the air. “Thorin Oakenshield was always supposed to be mine!”

Bilbo blinked at the dwarf before him with disbelieving eyes, Thorin had never given any indication that he had known Roga before her coming to Erebor. Bilbo quelled his instinctive curiosity and focused on the task at hand.

“Please let Frodo go.” Bilbo begged, looking around the room for any sign of compassion or sympathy but to his horror, he found none. “He’s nought but a child, have mercy.”

Bilbo is not above begging on his knees for his nephew’s life, his pleas are cut off abruptly by Roga stepping into his space with her knife held at his face.

“Do not try to beg for mercy from us.” She sneered. “You will both die.”

“He doesn’t know who any of you are!” Bilbo tried, desperate to save Frodo’s life, uncaring for his own at this point, though he knows how it will break Thorin. “I have kept his face hidden, he has seen nothing. I’m begging you, please let my child go.”

“Stop talking.” Roga demanded but any further threats were halted by scuffling at the door. “What is it?”

“They have noticed the half-breeds are missing.” Said a voice from behind Bilbo, he was too focused on Roga’s still aloft knife to attempt to turn to see if he recognised the newcomer as he only recognised those that he could see in passing. “They have launched a full scale search of the whole mountain.”

Roga erupted in a loud, angry roar that had Bilbo and Frodo in his arms, as well as several other dwarves near them, flinching from being so close to the source.

“We must move.” A dark ginger haired dwarf said stepping forward from Bilbo’s right. “They will find them here quickly.”

Roga nodded at the dwarf before turning back to Bilbo with manic eyes.

“Move.” She demanded, gesturing back toward the door with her dagger. “The rest of you, get back to the halls. We cannot be seen to be missing.” 

The other dwarves shuffle out the door obediently, the only ones who don’t leave, other than Roga, are the dark ginger haired one who had spoken, another dark haired one and when Bilbo turned to the door, he found his escorts still standing sentinel at the door.

“We should go to the old royal quarters.” The dark haired one who had not yet spoken, said. “They have been cleared but not made suitable for habitation. They shall not think to look for them there.”

Roga nodded, a small smile on her face as she did so. It was a smile that sent a shiver down Bilbo’s spine, it was not pleasant or warm in any sense of the words. It was cruel and spine chilling in a way that Bilbo had not seen since the sinister smirk of Azog. That thought scared him more than he could have ever thought possible, surely no creature could be as cruel as that awful being?

  
  


“I’m scared, Uncle.” Frodo whispered into Bilbo’s neck as Bilbo were forced to walk through the dark, uninhabited halls of Erebor. 

“I know, little one.” Bilbo said back just as quietly as he stroked Frodo’s back gently. He spoke into Frodo’s shoulder as the nearest dwarf was only a few footsteps ahead of them, he did not want them to hear his words. “You must keep your face hidden or your eyes closed no matter what you hear. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Uncle.” Frodo whimpered, clutching to Bilbo’s coat ever tighter. “Uncle Thorin will find us, won’t he?”

“He will, my darling. He will find us soon, I’m sure of it.” Bilbo reassured him, pressing a kiss to his sweat soaked curls. He knew Thorin would be desperately searching for them, no doubt shouting and storming unused halls himself, with Orcrist held aloft, ready to fell any who stood in his way. He could only hope that he was right.

  
  


“In there.” The original dark haired dwarf snapped, waving his sword toward a half crumbled door to their left.

“On your knees.” The other dark haired one ordered as soon as they were in the room, the only light source was from a crumbled piece of ceiling that allowed in a single beam of weak sunlight. 

Bilbo took some comfort in the fact that his last moments would be in the presence of sunshine, no matter how little and how weak, and not in a completely dark room like so many they had passed on their way here. He thought of Thorin and how his death may affect him, he didn’t entertain the thought of Frodo dying too, that was too much to bear even thinking about. He knew Thorin would be beside himself with grief, he knew how his husband adored him, he could only hope that this horrid maggot of a dwarf did not use the king’s grief to gain his favour. He needed Frodo to live, if only to give Thorin something to focus on other than the grief that Bilbo feared may consume him.

“Please.” Bilbo begged once more, tears springing to his eyes as those present held their weapons aloft, ready to strike and there was no sound of an impending rescue. “Let Frodo go, he’s just a baby. I’m begging you, he hasn’t seen anything, he doesn’t deserve to die. Have mercy,  _ please _ .”

Bilbo’s voice broke as he begged for his darling child’s life, he didn’t care about his own life at this point, only that Frodo could live and be safe from these maniacs.

“Shut up!” Roared Roga from behind Bilbo, he flinched once again at her loud, shrieking voice. “We end this now.”

Bilbo felt the cold edge of her dagger at the side of his throat not occupied by Frodo and he had to force himself not to tense so as not to frighten Frodo any more than he already is. Bilbo blinked away the tears in his eyes and clung as tight as he could to Frodo.

“I love you, my darling.” Bilbo whispered into Frodo’s ear as the hobbitling shook with fear. “I’m so sorry.”

Bilbo could feel Frodo’s tears soak his collar as his own fell into Frodo’s hair. 

“You should have stayed in your hovel, half-breed.” The first dark haired one said as he lifted his sword to strike at them.

Bilbo closed his eyes and prayed for Frodo. For Thorin. For all those he held dear. 

  
  


The sound of clashing metal rang out loudly in the previously eerily quiet room, Bilbo’s eyes flew open to see Thorin sword to sword with the brutish dwarf. Guards swarmed the room and they swiftly disarmed the others and forced them to their knees, though none went quietly. 

Thorin thrust Orcrist to Dwalin who held down the dwarf that Thorin had disarmed, before Bilbo could speak, Thorin had gathered Bilbo and Frodo in his arms and held them as close to his chest as they could possibly get. 

Bilbo couldn’t hold back the tears any longer, he clung to Thorin with one arm and Frodo with the other and wept. 

“My darlings.” Thorin said, voice breaking as he too wept into Bilbo’s hair as he alternated pressing kisses to Bilbo and Frodo’s curly hair. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“You almost did.” Bilbo admitted softly, he leaned back to look into Thorin’s eyes and thanked every god in creation that he got to see those eyes again. 

“I love you both so much.” Thorin said, gently stroking Frodo’s hair until the little faunt pulled back from his chest to look up.

It was only then that Bilbo realised that the clever little thing still had his eyes closed. 

“It’s alright now, Frodo darling.” Bilbo soothed, running a gentle hand over Frodo’s sweat and tear soaked hair. “You can open your eyes, we’re safe now.”

Frodo blinked his eyes open slowly, frowning as his eyes took a moment to get used to the weak light in the room. He looked between Bilbo and Thorin a few times before flinging himself back between the two, clinging to them both renewed vigour. 

“I thought I was dreaming because we weren’t here anymore.” Frodo admitted into Thorin’s beard, his voice barely audible over the rush of noise and activity around them.

Frodo’s words broke Bilbo’s heart, he hated himself for not being able to better protect his nephew.

“Don’t.” Thorin said sternly, catching Bilbo’s eye with a stern gaze. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for this, Bilbo Baggins. None of this is your fault. The only ones who are to blame are the ones who are now in chains.”

“But I couldn’t protect him.” Bilbo sobbed anew, pressing his face to Frodo’s curls once more just to reassure himself that they were both still breathing. “I couldn’t stop them.”

“No single person would have been able to stop a group such as theirs.” Thorin said seriously, tugging Bilbo’s hair gently so he could look his husband in the eye again. “You made sure he kept his eyes closed, you gave him the best chance of survival you could. You are not to blame yourself for their plans.” 

“Uncle! Frodo!” Twin cries came from the door and then there were an extra two sets of arms around the two hobbits.

“Thank the makers you’re okay.” Dis joined their little huddle with a fierce kiss to Frodo’s head then Bilbo’s.

“Come along, all of you.” 

Bilbo looked up to find Oin smiling warmly down at them, he ushered them all to their feet so he could quickly check over Bilbo and Frodo, before allowing them to be led from the room.

Bilbo only got a few steps down the corridor when he was suddenly swept up into Thorin’s arms, both Bilbo and Frodo, who Bilbo couldn’t quite let go of yet. 

“Thorin!” Bilbo squawked, clutching tight to a giggling Frodo, he was so happy to hear that noise once more. “I can walk, you know.”

“Indulge me.” Thorin said fondly, pressing a gentle kiss to Bilbo’s cheek, he has barely taken his eyes off Bilbo and Frodo since they had been found. 

Bilbo doesn’t have it in him to argue with Thorin, so he simply enjoys being in his husband’s arms when only a few moments ago he was sure that he would never feel his husband’s heartbeat against his cheek again.

  
  


It took more than a few hours for the Company to leave their chambers, none of them quite ready to quickly after almost losing two people they held dear. The last to leave were Fili, Kili and Dis. The princes curled protectively around their little cousin as Dis stroked Frodo’s freshly washed hair, Thorin and Bilbo curled on the other side of the bed facing their family. Bilbo has never been so thankful for the beings that lay with him now and he loves them so.

Dis ushered her sons out the door soon after Frodo drifted off, she bestowed kisses upon both hobbits and her bewildered brother before practically forcing her children out. 

“I am so thankful that you’re both safe.” Thorin said for the nth time that day, leaning in to press his forehead against Bilbo’s. “I fear I truly would have gone mad had anything happened to either of you.”

Bilbo pressed a gentle hand to Thorin’s cheek, smiling softly when the king leaned into the touch and pressed a soft kiss to Bilbo’s palm then brought their joined hands down to rest between them, Bilbo reached out to gently stroke the fabric over where lavender sprig that lay over Thorin’s heart.

“We’re safe, Thorin.” Bilbo reassured him. “And that is thanks to you.”

“We would never have found you if not for a reluctant traitor to the cause.” Bilbo blinked at Thorin in disbelief, none of the Company had actually mentioned how they were found. Thorin sat up slightly to check that Frodo was still sound asleep, he needn’t have bothered, Bilbo could hear the fauntling’s snoring in his ear, he lay back down as close to Bilbo as he could before continuing. “One of the dwarves was caught by Nori attempting poorly to blend into the crowd who had fled the hall after exiting one of the disused side tunnels, he confessed and revealed their plans quickly when his life hung in the balance.”

“Remind me to make Nori those raspberry tartlets he so favours one of these days.” Bilbo said faintly. 

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate that.” Thorin smiled fondly, his spymaster would go to great lengths to sequester any of those particular treats whenever Bilbo took it upon himself to make them. “You should sleep, ghivashel, you are exhausted.”

Bilbo answered Thorin’s words with a large yawn that had his eyes watering. Thorin gently pushed at his side to roll him over so Bilbo was facing a still snoring Frodo then curled in tightly to his back, resting a large hand over Bilbo’s own where it had settled on Frodo’s chest and stomach, assuring them both that the fauntling was there with them.

“How will they be punished?” Bilbo asked a few quiet moments later, his eyes were growing heavy and he could feel sleep coming upon him but the question was playing on his mind.

“They will be sentenced by the council tomorrow at noon.” Thorin replied, pressing a gentle kiss to Bilbo’s shoulder before continuing. “They are likely to be put to death for their crimes.”

“They were so certain of their right to kill us.” Bilbo said quietly, the cold surety in their eyes still chilled Bilbo to the bone despite his veritable furnace of a husband holding him close. 

“And for that, they will die.” Thorin sounded even more sure in his conviction of their fates, Bilbo knew that the King within him would not stand for such treason but his protective instincts as a husband and a father would ensure that those who dared to try would not live long. 

Bilbo hummed in response, too tired to do little else. He was not yet sure if he would attend the sentencing, he wanted to see those who had dared to hurt him and his precious nephew pay for their crimes but dwarven justice was, according to Thorin’s tales, brutal, and he wasn’t entirely sure whether he could cope with anymore potential bloodshed for the foreseeable future. 

“Goodnight, my king.” Bilbo said softly as he felt himself finally begin to drift off to sleep. 

“Goodnight, my burglar.” Thorin replied, placing one final kiss to Bilbo’s neck. 

He did not need to say it but Bilbo knew how terrified Thorin had been of losing them, of how had he been a few minutes later than he was, they would not be together right now. He also knew that Thorin would likely not let either Bilbo or Frodo out of sights for at least a month unless absolutely necessary, the thought made Bilbo smile fondly. He also resolved to spending the next few months being followed by at least two members of the company at all times, he couldn’t find it in himself to grumble at such a prospect however. 

Bilbo fell asleep to the sounds of Frodo’s snuffling snores and Thorin’s steady breathing, the feeling of Frodo’s beating heart under his palm calming him as did the heat of Thorin curled protectively at his back, counting his blessings that he was alive to be able to experience the sensations and sounds.

  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> So this fic has been an absolute labour of love for me, I've been writing this on and off since September 2018. I finally finished it today and I'm so happy to share it! 
> 
> I suck at titles so the title of this might change if I think of a better one at some point. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think if you can! 
> 
> Hope you're all staying safe and looking after yourselves ❤️


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